


fissure

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Choking, Crying, Face-Fucking, Frottage, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rough Oral Sex, Scars, Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: He is such a sweet, lovely thing; Hannibal so loves how he looks when he cries.





	fissure

Will eats slowly, nowadays, though the stab wound in his cheek that broke between two of his teeth and sliced a clean line over the top of his tongue has long-since healed. When all was said and done, they were more wound than men, but Hannibal was meticulous in making sure Will stayed hydrated and clean, tended to his injuries and walked Will through how to sew up his own entry and exit wound from Dolarhyde's gun.

His cheek, though.

Hannibal watches, a soft ever-constant thrum of heat sitting in his chest as he watches Will eat. There sits, in his cheek, a piece of sleek black plastic that catches the low light. A gauge, ovular in shape, that kept the wound open after the stitches had healed. His fingers twitch, remembering how Will had flinched from him, his eyes wide and glaring like a cornered wolf, showing his whites, when Hannibal had stitched up first one side, then the other, but left the innards of it open. Pushed, with gauze first to soak up the blood, and then cotton to keep the shape and make it bulge. Then, when it was healed over, a small disk, the sides of it bowing in like a narrow hourglass to allow Will's cheek to sink into it, tighten around it. He'd bound Will's hands the first time he'd tried to take it out, so tightly Will's fingers turned white, and then blue. He hadn't tried again.

Now, the hole is large enough that, when Will doesn't have the cheekpiece in, it doesn't close, and lets Hannibal see his cracked teeth.

Will pretends to ignore him as he finishes his last bite, Hannibal sitting in silence, waiting, watching, as he swallows the last of his wine and sets the glass down. His right cheek bulges a little now, higher than the other, and makes one side of him look cherubic, angelic, even when he's scowling.

Will's eyes dart to him, darken when he sees where Hannibal is staring. His fingers flex around the stem of his wine glass, and he licks his lips, considering the empty bowl like he's thinking about how much force it would take to crush it, to use it as a weapon.

But, slowly, his other hand rises, his thumb sinks in on one side of his cheek, fingers on the other, and he pushes out the center plug of the gauge, so that all that remains is a thin ring to keep its shape. Hannibal smiles, sees the tips of his pink gums, the small chip in one of his upper molars where the knife struck and cracked it.

He sets the plug piece down by his empty wine glass, breathes in, and stares straight ahead.

It's harder for him to speak without the plug in, but he manages – exhales heavily through his nose and slides his tongue between his lips. "You just gonna sit there and stare at me all day?"

"You're the most beautiful thing to look at," Hannibal replies, unrepentant. Will's eyes tighten at the corners, and he turns his head away, his teeth grinding together, jaw bulging around the piece. Hannibal's chin lifts. Hannibal knows there lingers, still, some echo of vanity, some visceral outrage that Hannibal managed to mark him _again,_ in a way that will never fade.

Hannibal rises from his seat, circles the edge of the table and takes Will by the chin, forcing him to turn and lift his eyes. Will's lips part in askance, and Hannibal smiles, leaning down and sliding his hand to Will's neck, tightening so he can't pull away, and kisses him with teeth, earning a sweet whine from Will, a shiver, a flex of his throat.

His other hand lifts, and he hooks a finger through the hole in Will's cheek, and Will flinches. But he cannot go far, hooked at he is. Hannibal tugs on his cheek until he snarls, and despite the fact that the wound has long-since healed, tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

He shakes his head, or tries to. Whispers, "Don't."

Hannibal's smile widens, and, in answer, he slides another finger through the hole in Will's cheek. His other hand is quick to corral Will's jaw, taking advantage of his parted lips when he gasps to push his thumb in on the other side, working his jaws apart until Will is panting, and Hannibal can see the scar on his tongue.

Will pushes at him, trying to stand, and goes still when Hannibal growls, and jerks his head, causing Will to wince and let out a plaintive sound. With his mouth so open, he can't hide it, can't swallow it back.

Hannibal smiles, and pushes his thumb between Will's teeth, nail catching on the little break where his cracked tooth is. He leans down, admiring the way his fingers look inside Will's mouth, the press of warm, wet flesh on them, the sweetness of wine on his exhale.

That heat in his chest grows claws, and sweeps downwards.

Hannibal pets his thumb over Will's tongue, pushes down on it to force his mouth open wider, and Will whines again, trembling, his eyes shining until they clench tightly shut. It forces a single tear from him, which clings to his lashes, and Hannibal leans in and kisses it away.

Kisses, again, over Will's uninjured cheek. The one that how has deeper lines along it because on this side, he can smile wider, and scowl deeper. He curls his fingers below Will's chin, others still hooked in his cheek, and gives him a mirroring bite that makes Will whimper and shake. Will's hands wrap around his wrists, tightly, shoving his nails against the tip of the scars there like he can reopen them through sheer force of will.

Hannibal laughs, low, and Will's eyes flutter open as he pulls back. His cheeks are flushed with shame and anger, beneath it, aching want, and Hannibal thoroughly enjoys that, even still, he can conjure such powerful conflicting emotions in Will.

He releases Will's chin, and pulls his fingers back so only one is still hooked through the gauge, and steps back. Will has no choice but to get to his feet, baring his clenched teeth with a low snarl. Saliva coats Hannibal's finger, now, leaking from the hole in Will's cheek, and he smiles widely, and tugs, never taking his eyes off Will as he leads Will from the dining room, into the one adjacent that is serving as a living room in this safehouse. The space is small, intimate, only room for a couch, a small table, and a single other chair around the fireplace.

He leads Will to the couch, using his grip on Will's mouth to tug, harshly, and Will snarls, but has to bow, listing right and then falling down off-kilter onto the couch. Hannibal shoves his shoulders, forcing him onto his back, and straddles his chest before Will can move away.

Will grunts, as his weight settles, and stares up at Hannibal with wide eyes, his teeth parted so he can suck in air to his lungs. Hannibal smiles, and finally releases him, and Will snaps his jaws together tightly, the shine of his exposed molars making him look feral.

Hannibal tilts his head, lifts his brows, as Will slides his hands up Hannibal's thighs, flattens warm and wide over his hips. "Oh?"

"Am I wrong?" Will asks.

Hannibal huffs a laugh, and shakes his head, breathing out heavily as Will's hands slide in, pulling at the button and zip of his suit pants until the halves part, and pushing his hand in so he can tug Hannibal's underwear down, exposing his cock. Hannibal growls as Will's warm fist wraps around his cock, gently coaxing the foreskin back to reveal the pink head, which is already shining with precum. Will lifts his head, parts his lips and wraps them around it, and Hannibal cradles his skull to help him stay upright, snarling low when, as Will sucks, only one of his cheeks hollows. He sees the spread of Will's teeth, sees his red tongue, his own flesh as he sinks in, and he is quick to take advantage, rearing up and over Will and fucking his head down onto the couch, his hand forcing Will to take his cock, to choke on it, as Hannibal's fingers hook in his cheek once more.

Will's eyes flash up, dark with outrage, but he can't protest with Hannibal's cock in his mouth. Hannibal snarls, fitting his nail between Will's molars, and he shifts his weight, pinning Will's arms to his sides and sitting on his collarbones, and lets go of Will's head only long enough to grab a cushion and force it under his neck, so his second hand is free.

He sinks into Will's mouth, works his other thumb where his lips are soft and give at the corner, unable to tighten, to fight him back, and he forces Will's teeth apart again, pushes his thumb in until it hits the hard, connecting joint, and fucks past Will's spasming throat muscles, until he feels tender cartilage squeeze around him.

Will's hips rise, his hands clawing where they can on Hannibal's lower back as Hannibal keeps himself there, watches Will's cheek, chin, and his own fingers grow wet with saliva as his gag reflex fights Hannibal's invasion. He growls, digs his claws behind the hinge of Will's jaw, into his tender throat, and rocks back, fucking in again when Will's lungs heave with a desperate gulp of air.

Saliva runs out through the hole in his cheek, thick and warm, his lips stretched tight so his incisors and canines are bared as well around the thick, flushed shaft of Hannibal's cock. He's soaking wet, at the eyes too, gagging tears welling up and spilling to melt into his halo of dark hair.

"Beautiful," Hannibal breathes, brushing the thumb of his hooked hand over the flush of shame on Will's cheek. Will growls, in his throat, the noise making his chest vibrate, and Hannibal closes his eyes, tilts his head back and sinks into Will's mouth again, until his head pushes deep into the cushion and his performative snarl turns into a weak whimper.

Hannibal smiles. "There you go, darling," he purrs, petting over Will's cheek, pushing his thumbs into the innards of them and stretching his lips wide, exposing his gums as he continues to move, delighted as Will's eyes grow darker, pupils breaking the edge of his iris, flooding them. "You know you're so beautiful to me. Even more so, when you break."

Will's eyes flash, his nostrils flare, and he chokes as Hannibal presses deep again. Tightens his hands, and forces deeper still, until Will's wet mouth touches the very base of his cock. Will swallows, pawing at Hannibal's clothes around his thighs, trying to tug him back. More tears well up and spill over, and Will's lashes flutter, his lungs shivering and seizing beneath Hannibal's thighs as he's denied his air.

Hannibal smiles, and releases Will's uninjured cheek, and flattens his hand in Will's hair, pushing him closer, as his throat spasms and he gags in earnest. Starts to cough, muscles squeezing tight around Hannibal's cock. He forces Will to stay there as he starts to convulse, his hands' attempts growing weaker, until finally they go limp, and his jaw slackens so much that it cracks, and he winces, saliva spilling thick and hot down his chin.

Hannibal pulls back, all the way out, and Will heaves in a breath, turns his face and gags, throat flexing as he tries to pull in air. Hannibal's smile widens and he wraps a hand around Will's throat, stopping him from being able to breathe in.

Will moans weakly, but he is, finally, surrendering to it, his heart rushing like the beat of a hummingbird's wings, weak and thready under Hannibal's fingers. He gives one final squeeze, and releases Will, allows him a single breath before he yanks him upright again and forces his cock into Will's mouth.

Will sighs through his nose, lashes low, shining with tears, at the complete mercy of Hannibal's desire. It takes him a while when Hannibal chokes him to start reacting again, and Hannibal takes advantage, again, pulls Will's lips taut and feeds him just the head of his cock, and comes with a grunt, flooding Will's mouth, coating his tongue.

He wraps a hand around his cock, stroking the slick flesh that isn't in Will's mouth, and watches with heavy satisfaction as it pools on Will's scarred tongue, coats his teeth, and leaks in a thick line through the hole in his cheek. He pulls his finger out so that he can see it better, and then pushes all the way in, so that he can see how it looks inside of Will when he's fucking him.

When he's finished, he pulls back, and Will shudders, rolling to his side and gagging, saliva and come spilling from his bruised lips, dripping on his teeth like blood, out of the hole in his cheek and staining his jaw, coating his facial hair. His face and neck are red, his hair damp with sweat, as he convulses and chokes and tries to catch his breath.

Hannibal corrects his clothes, and slides back on Will, freeing his arms and allowing him more room to breathe. Watches, sated and content, as Will's chest expands in a rapid, shuddering inhale, his exhale softer like he can't bear to part from such welcome fullness.

He slides back a little further, finds that despite his rough treatment – or more likely because of it – Will is hard, his erection tenting his slacks and rutting into the pressure of Hannibal's weight on him. Will whimpers, wiping a hand across his jaw, the cushion beneath his head now bearing a large, wet stain from what leaked out of his cheek.

He lifts his head, almost tentatively meeting Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal smiles at him, cups his chin, and leans down, licking up the slick trail of come on his jaw before he finds Will's lips and feeds it back to him. Thinks, with a huff of laughter, that it's a fruitless endeavor, and will just leak back out again.

Will kisses him back, makes a soft, hungry sound as Hannibal lets him rut up between his thighs, hands pawing at Hannibal's hips to keep him still and allow him friction. Hannibal slides his tongue between Will's teeth, licks the very edge of the gauge, and flattens his hand around Will's sore neck again, squeezing. Tighter, tighter, until Will gasps and moans, tilting his head back in a silent plea for more. He pushes his thumb to Will's thrumming pulse, robbing him of both blood and oxygen, and Will's eyes flare open, staring blindly upwards, the whites of his eyes stark around his large pupils, only a ring of blue around them.

Hannibal keeps the pressure up, hooks his finger in Will's cheek and tugs on the ring, as though he might force it out of the old wound and leave Will bare, lifeless. Will comes just like that, as the ring gives and parts from his cheek just a little, and Hannibal abruptly slackens his grip. He trembles, not enough air to make a noise, comes in complete silence and bucks his hips, blooming wet and warm between Hannibal's thighs. Tense, then snapping, he collapses and Hannibal smiles, carefully correcting the gauge in his cheek and swapping his finger for his thumb, petting over Will's gum and broken tooth.

Will's lashes flutter, his eyes close and then open a few seconds later, sharpening. "There you are," Hannibal purrs, and Will swallows, pressing his lips together, finally hiding his teeth. His mouth is swollen with abuse, corners tender and red, cracking, his face shining with tears and saliva and come, and he looks, "Beautiful."

Will's blush darkens, and his bruised throat flexes as he swallows again. Hannibal finally takes his hand away, pushes Will's sweaty hair back from his face to reveal the scar on his forehead, and leans down to kiss it, first. Then Will's temple. Then, his cheek, and he licks the sharp taste of tears from the warm skin.

Finally, his lips, which part around a trembling exhale, and Will clings to him in turn, desperate now, for Hannibal's mercy, for his kindness. He is such a sweet, lovely thing; Hannibal so loves how he looks when he cries.

He rises from Will, a single look telling Will to remain where he is, soiled clothes and all, and Will nods, rolling onto his side and curling up as Hannibal returns to the dining room and fetches the plug piece. Then, he goes to the kitchen, and retrieves a bowl of warm water and a soft dish towel.

When he returns, he takes Will's face and pulls him upright. Meets his eyes as he carefully fits the plug back into Will's cheek, sealing him tight. The left side of Will's mouth curls up in a grateful smile, and he submits with a bowed head and lax neck, as Hannibal wets the towel and gently cleans his face. Folds it, and wipes over Will's forehead, and the back of his neck.

When he's finished, he sets the bowl and towel down on the coffee table, and cradles Will's face in his hands, lifting him so Will can meet his eyes. His head tilts, and Will mimics him, swimming now in a place deprived of light and air, still recovering his breath, his heart racing. It will not calm any time soon.

"Perhaps a bath," Hannibal suggests.

Will's mouth curves, angled, in another sweet smile, and he leans in for a kiss that lingers, soft and clinging, and gives a single, shallow nod.


End file.
